


Drink Drunking

by KayleeJohn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Almost a CoffeeShop!AU, Alternate Universe, Budding Love, Drunkenness, Fluff, GoodSamaritan!Harry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1612565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeJohn/pseuds/KayleeJohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall drunk dials the wrong number. Harry picks up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink Drunking

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted [here](http://leprechauncupcakes.tumblr.com/post/82929768443/drink-drunking-narry) and based on my tags [here!](http://leprechauncupcakes.tumblr.com/post/80017600560/caramelfringe-fanfic-ideas-famous-classical)

Harry is not easily pissed off. But, when his phone starts ringing at _three in the freaking morning_ and he has a very important test the next day (or later on that day, _specifics_ ), well, who can blame him. It’s just that, Harry likes his sleep - a lot. So sue him.

Still, he’s a good guy and, somehow in his mind, three in the morning translates into emergency so he smacks at his dressing table until he feels his phone underhand, swiping his thumb over the green circle before he holds it to his ear and it’s with a croak that he finally answers, “Hello?”

 _“Ari babes!”_   Whoever or whatever it is, all Harry knows is that it’s a loud, tinny voice in his ear and so painfully not an emergency but, the moment he jerks the phone away, the voice just seems to get louder, prattling on even though Harry hasn’t answered. _“It’s Niall, in case you didn’t catch on! I know it’s early but you said to call whenever I needed a lift and I really need a lift right now.”_

It’s safe to say that Harry has no earthly idea who this is. Fuck, he’s never even met any Nialls, nor does he know anyone with this kind of accent so he’s pretty much sold on hanging up the phone (with a short prayer for Niall’s safety; he’s not a beast) but it’s the slurring that gets him to pause because Niall is slurring, a whole heck of a lot. “Where are you?” Harry asks carefully, sitting up in bed because his eyelids are getting heavy again and he might just end up passing out on Niall if he doesn’t. 

 _“I actually have no idea.”_ Niall’s words are punctuated by a burst of laughter, from Niall, and the sharp honk, from a car, and, if Harry wasn’t awake before, he sure as hell is now because Harry knows that sound. That was the sound of someone stumbling into traffic. It’s a dangerous sound.

“Can you get to a street corner? See any landmarks?” Harry kicks his sheets off and shifts to the edge of his bed, hissing when his bare toes touch the cold floor but he otherwise doesn’t complain. Instead, he focuses on the task at hand. “Metro stations? Anything?”

For a moment, Niall doesn’t answer, and Harry thinks with a blessed sigh that the call has dropped and this is no longer his problem but no, Niall chimes back in with a loud laugh, _“The trident statue is down the street. You know the one, we took those silly pictures in front of it.”_

Harry thinks he’d like to see those pictures, for some reason, if only to put a face to Niall’s voice and figure out exactly who Niall thinks he is, judging by the ’we’ in that sentence. And that’s about where it hits him. The trident statue. The one that’s  _all the way across town_. Well, fuck. Harry groans and buries his face in his palm because he knows it’ll take an hour to make his way there, as it always does. But, he’ll do it anyway, he’s already committed to the cause.

Harry gets dressed reluctantly, slipping a hoodie and sweatpants on over his briefs as he listens to Niall prattle on about some guy he was chatting up at the bar he got wasted in. It turns out though, it only takes twenty minutes for Harry to drive downtown because, oh yeah, it’s three in the morning and there isn’t a soul outside. Honestly, Harry doesn’t even know why in seven hells he’s going to pick up a stranger across town. Right, because he’s a  _good person_.

Harry pulls up outside the statue and squints out his passenger window into the darkness for about two seconds before the door swings open. After that, Harry has a car full of blonde hair and flushed skin, a dopey smile and bright blue eyes and grabby hands hooking in his sweater. “Thank you _so_ much! You’re the best!” Niall nearly shouts, smacking a wet kiss onto Harry’s cheek, and he pulls away before Harry can properly react so he’s left to start his car again in befuddled silence. 

Except, it’s not long before Niall starts talking again, barely a minute into their journey before he kicks off his shoes and makes his feet right at home on Harry’s dashboard. “Sorry for calling you but I had no more money for a taxi.”

“No, it’s fine.” Harry shrugs and concentrates on the road before he realizes he has no earthly idea where he’s supposed to be taking Niall. Which, that’s kind of a problem. “Where should I drop you off?”

“Don’t you know?” Niall snorts a little humourlessly and Harry has to bite his tongue to avoid snapping that he _really_ doesn’t. “Wester Road will do but my porch would be nice. Thirty-seventy, not that I’ve moved since the last time.”

Harry nods his head without another word and the car falls into silence except for a brief moment when Niall tinkers with the radio but he ends up turning it off, finding nothing to his satisfaction. It’s weird that Niall hasn’t noticed the fact that Harry is a stranger, like at all, because he doesn’t sound that inebriated in person, not slurring so much as his accent is just awfully thick. Harry thinks he’d like to hear it more. “So,” He scrambles for words, drumming his fingers over the steering wheel. “What was the occasion?”

“Mmm?” Niall mumbles in a sleepy moan and, oh fuck no, he is not passing out in Harry’s car, that is not happening right now. But, sure enough, Niall is curled up in Harry’s passenger seat, thighs pressed tight to his chest as his head rests against the window. His eyes are half open though, glassy, but he’s awake to the sound of Harry’s voice. “Oh, it’s step five in my ‘lose virginity before twenty-one’ plan.”

Harry can’t help it; he has to laugh. There is no way someone looking like  _this_  is anything like  _that_ but drunk people don’t exactly have a penchant for lying. “And how’s that working out for you?” Harry asks on the tail end of a chuckle.

“Well, I’m twenty and still eligible for virgin sacrifices,” Niall mumbles before his mouth gapes in a yawn, eyes squeezing shut as his head thuds against the window and Harry knows that this conversation is firmly over. Still, the silence isn’t so bad with the soft hum of Niall’s breathing and the mild roar of the engine. 

Finally, Harry pulls up outside what he hopes to be Niall’s home, a tall apartment building, and he shuts the car off only to realize that Niall isn’t getting out. Because he’s asleep. Well. Harry reaches over and jostles Niall’s shoulder, gently because he isn’t a beast, and Niall gasps wetly as he wakes up. 

Harry doesn’t know quite what to say and it turns out he doesn’t have to because Niall takes one look out the window and grins, shoving his feet back into his shoes before he smacks another kiss against Harry’s cheek. Niall lurches out of the car and disappears through the building door before Harry can even offer to help him up to his flat and it’s then that Harry really realizes that he got absolutely nothing from this encounter - not that he was expecting money or anything like that! Just.

Harry goes back home. And he doesn’t fall asleep. So, it’s about noon when he finally shuffles out of his class, unsure of the level of success (or rather the lack thereof) he had on his test but done is done and he is _done_ for the day and coffee sounds divine right about now. It feels like a blink but Harry soon finds himself standing in line at the nearest Starbucks, chanting his order in his mind even though he knows he’s going to fumble it when he gets to the cash, and he’s so preoccupied with doing that that he doesn’t notice his phone buzzing until his thigh goes numb.

Harry fishes his phone out of his pocket and swipes his thumb across the green circle without really acknowledging the number. “Hello?” Harry murmurs as he steps forward in line because, no matter how loud this coffee shop is, he always feels wrong to talk loud in public. 

 _“Uh,”_   That’s what whoever is on the other end of the line responds (or doesn’t respond,  _specifics_ ) and, though Harry waits, that’s all he really gets. There’s definite breathing, hitched and short, but nothing else and Harry definitely doesn’t have the patience for this. He hangs up, and steps up to the next free cash when he’s called, fumbles his order as he expected but he gets his coffee and that’s all he really wanted. 

Harry heads across the quad to get back to his car, burning his tongue on his coffee but, god, is the feeling worth it. He’s a little more than halfway when his phone starts buzzing again, incessant and annoying against his leg, and this time he glares at the number before answering because he still doesn’t recognize it, no matter how much blue steel. “Hello?”

 _“Uh, yeah, hi,”_ It’s the same voice as before and that makes Harry stop in his step because it’s tinny and he recognizes it from somewhere, he swears he does, but he  _doesn’t,_ really. That bothers him.  _“I called you about ten minutes ago or something? In case you didn’t catch on, that was me too.”_

“Yeah, I figured.” Harry snaps, even though he doesn’t mean to, because he’s not a beast but all he wants to do is go home and kick his feet up, not talk to some stuttering stranger on the phone. “What do you want?” 

 _“I just,”_ The person hesitates with a great big sigh and Harry kind of feels a little guilty about his impatience, walking over to the nearest bench so he can take a seat. If he can’t stretch his legs out at home, he can at least do it here, take a deep breath and relax.

“What’s the matter?” Harry makes sure his inflection is precise, calm but concerned, and just to take his mind off it, he presses his fingers one by one against the top of his coffee cup until he’s framing the rim. 

The person takes a deep breath before they clear their throat and then they start speaking, slowly, like Harry is the one to blame in this situation.  _“I called you, and we talked for thirty_ _minutes. N_ _ot before, just,”_ Harry’s heart thuds heavily away in his chest but no, it’s not, it can’t.  _“It was at three in the morning and I don’t remember a thing.”_ Oh, but it can.

Harry swallows over his tongue until he can speak again but the word, the _name_ still comes out thick when he speaks. “Niall?” Harry gets a whine as an answer and he jolts to sit up right from where he was slouched down, pressing his fingers against wood until it feels like he’s getting splitters under his nails.

When Niall speaks again, it’s with another whine, a weak whimper, and an unconscious tremble but he still forces the words past his lips like a curse.  _“I have no idea who you are or what happened last night.”_

It’s taken Harry that long to realize just exactly what this whole situation looks like and, oh well fuck. “I didn’t do anything to you, I swear it.” Harry shoves his fist against his thigh as he just blurts the first things that come to mind. “You were drunk and you dialed the wrong number and you wouldn’t _stop talking_ and I just  _couldn’t_  leave you. I just drove you home, I promise.” Harry pleads, as if the opinion of a stranger will flip his whole world on its head but Niall isn’t a stranger, not really. He just, he matters, in a way Harry can’t make sense of right now.

Niall laughs but it’s humourless and his next words are just as bitter.  _“Who even are you? Who would do that?”_

“Honestly?” Harry asks, rhetorically but still. “I didn’t know why I was doing it, still don’t, but you just sounded like you needed a friend.” Harry rolls his eyes at his stupidly cliché words but Niall hasn’t freaked out so far; that’s gotta mean something. “And, well, my name is Harry and I’m a student at UCL so I can fully say I’m not a pedophile.”

 _“You’re a student at UCL?”_ Niall chimes back in and he doesn’t sound condescending or anything like that. If anything, he actually sounds excited and that kind of throws Harry for a loop but he’s definitely not complaining.  _“Me too!”_ And, Harry can’t help it if he looks around, as if he’ll see Niall standing around. He obviously can’t, right now, but that doesn’t stop him. _“That’s so weird!”_

Harry chuckles and bobs his head before he remembers how absent Niall was when Harry’d dropped him off, and he’s gotta ask after that, “How hungover were you this morning?”

 _“So gone!”_   Niall snorts and Harry is stumped at how easy this is, like he’s known Niall all his life. That’s weird, he’s not going to think about that anymore. _“Anyway, uh, thank you for helping me last night and thank you for not taking advantage of me. I owe you like a million favours, I swear.”_

Harry can’t help but blush at Niall’s gushing, duck his head to hide his grin, except, glory isn’t why he did it. “You don’t owe me anything, honestly.” 

Niall hums thoughtfully but otherwise doesn’t answer and Harry takes the opportunity to compose himself because his stomach is not meant to be an insectarium, but he can’t help the butterflies.  _“Are you still at school? We can meet up for coffee or something.”_ Niall eventually offers but it’s just as Harry is taking a sip of his lukewarm drink and, well.

“I actually already have coffee.” Harry admits but, when Niall starts stammering an excuse, Harry realizes that he was being _so_ incredibly obtuse. “But, I’d still like to meet up. If you want. I’m done for the day.” Harry blurts, kicking his feet at the heels of the bench, just hoping that he hasn’t fucked this up because if Niall wants to meet up with him, who the hell is he to deny him.

 _“D’you want to meet at Starbucks then?”_ Niall’s smile is evident even through his words and Harry can’t help the grin the spreads across his face, nor does he want to, in any sense or way. 

“I’ll be waiting outside.” And so he does, but across the street and only so he can see Niall before Niall sees him because, this time, Niall will be seeing him with a clear head. Harry just doesn’t want Niall to be disappointed, is all. 

So, Harry watches as Niall ducks into Starbucks, looking warm and comfortable with a beanie tugged tight over his head and his fingers tucked into the sleeves of a long grey sweater. He’s not in there for long, now that the busy bustle of lunch has passed, but, when he stands outside, he looks uncertain, like the fact that Harry isn’t outside is a direct link to being stood up, and that just isn’t going to fly.

Harry gets honked at, twice, when he jogs across the street but Harry really doesn’t care because Niall is watching him, blatantly, by the time he stops beside him and Harry threads a hand through his hair more out of nerves than anything because he can’t take the stares. “Hi, Niall,” Harry says a little breathlessly from his run before he claps a hand to his chest. “I’m Harry.”

Niall seems to jump at the words and drops his eyes to the ground, mouthing for a moment before he finally gets the words out. “Oh, uh, hi.” Niall says at a stutter, brushing out the ruffles of his shirt with a trembling hand. “You never told me you were–, nevermind.”

“Never told you…?” Harry trails off, twisting until he’s in Niall’s line of view and it’s like a blast from the past when colour rises to Niall’s cheeks like someone’s pressing on his skin. Niall slights him before dropping his eyes back to the ground but he does gesture at Harry’s body like that explains everything and Harry glances down at his clothes to see if there’s anything different but no, same old jacket and jeans and ratty brown boots.

Niall grunts when Harry doesn’t automatically get it and hunches over in obvious defeat, waving at Harry once more before he mumbles lowly, “Attractive, is what I meant.” And, oh.

“Oh!” Harry gasps and flails a little before getting his hands back under control and, when he does, he wraps them tight around his coffee just to have something to do. “Well, I mean, I can see that going extraordinarily in conversation,” Harry rambles on with a twirl of his wrist, casting his eyes skyward because he can _not_  shut up. “‘Hey, my name’s Harry and I’m attractive,’ that would go swimmingly, wouldn’t it! Would  _you_  ever meet with someone who said that?” Harry learns to fall quiet about two seconds too late but it must be okay because Niall is smiling at him, not wide like he was before, but small and private, fondness for Harry’s eyes only.

Niall rolls back on the ball of his foot before he hides his smile behind his coffee but Harry can still see it in the curl of his eyes and the swell of his cheeks and, though Niall finally schools his expression into something manageable, Harry can still see it under the glow of his skin. “If it were true,” Niall’s shrug aims for (and misses) nonchalant but it makes Harry’s heart beat twice as hard.

“And is it?” Harry arches an eyebrow, giving in to his body’s desire to move closer to Niall but Niall doesn’t seem to mind at all, jutting his chin out like he’s staring Harry down, even though Harry is clearly the taller of the two.

Niall spins around and tosses a laugh over his shoulder in answer to Harry’s question, walking away only for Harry to follow him (like he’s sure he would, for as long as Niall would let him). “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Yeah, Harry really, really would.


End file.
